One
by Blue Sky Noise
Summary: Kanaya is a troll, and troll romance consists of four separate quadrants, two of which happen to be of an intimate nature involving copulation. You are a human, and it is not your place to get senselessly upset over something so trivial.


The arms wrapped around your waist are unexpected, but you give them no more response than a blink of your eyes. There's a single candle still lit on your dresser and you keep your gaze fixed on the flickering shadows it throws against the wall.

It's relaxing, even if the light is ruined somewhat by the white glow now at your back.

"I thought you were going to be with Vriska tonight." It's more a statement than a question, and perhaps that's why Kanaya doesn't give you an answer. A quiet hum is all she offers, and her forehead nuzzles at the crook of your neck. It's a sweet gesture, but you can't bring yourself to respond but with further stillness. Several long seconds pass before Kanaya breaks the near-tense silence settled between you.

"I'm not going to see Vriska tonight," she murmurs, and then there is warmth on the back of your neck where she places a few light kisses. Again you hold your tongue, if only this time to hide even the slightest hint at a reaction. Four years and your heart still beat faster with the feather-light touch of her lips. Flighty broad indeed, Lalonde.

But there is still a limit on how long you can remain speechless before that in itself betrays some hesitation, and so you find your voice as her thumbs trace small circles against your hips, arms loose enough around you that you know she would allow you to pull away but firm enough to let you know she does not want you to.

"Does this mean there has been some rescheduling?" you ask, and for your credit your voice reveals nothing but perfect indifference. "Forgive me if I missed something but I believe we had plans for tomorrow. I'm not sure how I feel about you standing me up."

Kanaya laughs, quietly enough that it could barely be noted, and yet the sound still eases the sinking that had nearly started in your chest. You can feel her chin come to rest on your shoulder, though you do not notice the way your own head tilts to rest against hers until there's the familiar, soft warmth where your hair brushes against hers, her horn just barely pressing to your temple.

"No I am not standing you up," she says, still with the faintest touch of amusement. "Nothing has changed, I would not dare to miss our evening of baseless quipping over dinner."

"Good," you say, and your hands are over her arms before you can allow yourself to think too much of it. "I don't think I could forgive you leaving me hanging like a lovestruck teenager on a second date. Hell, I might have even stamped my foot in rage."

Kanaya laughs again, but the silence that follows it is heavy. You can tell she is thinking, and though there is temptation to interrupt her thought, you turn your attention to her arms, lazily playing at her sleeves and leaving her undisturbed, feelings the fabric lightly between the tips of your fingers. She wants to speak. You can hear it in the very way she breathes, and in the same sense you know if you pressed her she would do so. Yet something holds you back, and you wait. You wait for her, and after a minute of soundless noise she catches you.

"I'm not going to be seeing Vriska anymore."

And catches you off guard.

"What?" It slips out without thought, without any premeditation to hide the tone of surprise. You curse yourself for it, but you don't have long to dwell as Kanaya's response is prompt.

"I broke things off with her," she answers, and this time you keep your mouth shut long enough to process what you are hearing and smooth your voice. At least then you do not sound so shamefully shocked when you dare question more, though the word is still careful to the point of strain.

"Why?"

Kanaya falls quiet again, though not motionless. One hand slides from your hip to your stomach, drifting up just barely an inch or two but still enough to slightly bunch the fabric between her fingers. When she speaks, it very well may be to herself.

"I am your only quadrant."

A lump forms in your throat, and you can almost imagine your stomach twisting beneath the gentle weight of her fingers.

"Yes," you answer. Monotony is key. "But I am also human. While monogamy may be the standard for our culture..." The lump hardens, but you hide it by lowering your voice. "...I know it is not the same for trolls." You shrug. "Cultural differences."

"Mm." A kiss is placed against your cheek, and you give her arm a weak squeeze in response. "Yes, and you have been nothing if not culturally sensitive as of late." Her words dripped with an unspoken _however, _and that's when you opened your mouth. Because there was no however in this case. There were no buts, althoughs, or anyhows. It was fact. Kanaya was a troll, and troll romance consisted of four separate quadrants, two of which happened to be of an intimate nature involving copulation. You are a human, and it is not your place to get senselessly upset over something so trivial.

(Not that you are upset. Of course not. Like you said, it was senseless and trivial. Idiotic even. Why would you be upset over Kanaya delving into her black quadrant while you occupied her red? Stupid.)

"But I do not think it is working out for me." Your mouth closes. She continues. "On the topic of cultural sensitivity, I have been thinking...and I believe one occupant to cover a single base of affections would serve me far better."

And just like that, you have no argument. This was what Kanaya was choosing for herself in her own best interest. Just as before you have no right to speak out in the matter. You cannot protest her decision.

And she knows it.

She knows you cannot find words to justify objecting to her choice, because she knows you would accept it no other way. Not for the stability of your relationship, never for the sake of your own feelings. But for hers?

Sometimes it deeply hits you how well Kanaya Maryam knows you.

And each time in the end you confess you love her for it.

And you want to tell her that. You want to say it. You want to thank her and express your gratitude or your amazement at what she was doing for you. You want to say a million things to her, but like so many times before, not a one of them passes from your lips.

"Alright." That is all you say. No change in tone, no inflection. Nothing to indicate she had just told you anything more important than how the weather was. You turn in her arms, and with her hands now at the small of your back you rest your own on her shoulders, coaxing the two of you back until you have her pressed to the door, taking one step more to close all the distance between you.

And maybe, just maybe, you smile. You smile and look at her and she smiles back, because maybe you know that she can see in it all of the things you have in your heart right then but not in your voice.

One day you know you will open to her and tell those things always on your mind, but right now it doesn't matter. She knows. She knows, and her body is warm against yours and she is _not _going to see Vriska Serket tonight, or anyone any other night.

Your smiling, even as your lips brush hers and you run your fingers through her hair, fingers curly loosely around the base of her hooked horn.

"As long as you are now free tonight..."


End file.
